


The Champion's Conquest

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cheating, F/M, I am such a Hawke fangirl, Past Relationships, Possible Spoilers, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, adding more tags as relevant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5742676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is companion to the Inquisitor and he is the Champion of Kirkwall, but similar pain brings them together. Although their relationship is complicated, this may be "the one" for each of them. However, a shocking surprise may threaten their budding romance--and shake the Inquisition to the core.<br/>~~<br/>AU where my companion Teshrael and Bull do not work out and she finds love with Hawke</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                She had not meant for it to happen. From the moment he had arrived, Teshrael had been hyper-aware of his presence—but of course, she had some strange commitment to Iron Bull and that could not be changed now.

                And then she had found him: her lover—or so she thought—wrapped around one of the bar wenches, his hand hidden beneath her skirts. Teshrael hadn’t even alerted them to her presence, but had merely stumbled from his room in the inn and fled Skyhold, going deep into the woods.

                Teshrael hadn’t known she had been followed until he was suddenly _there_ , his arms encircling her and pulling her to his chest. _Hawke_. The Champion of Kirkwall had said nothing as he held her close, stroking her hair with only the occasional pause to press a soft, chaste kiss to the fiery strands.

                When she had lifted her face to his, she had had full intentions of thanking him. But the moment their eyes met—Hawke’s gaze dark and even, hers multi-colored and distraught—it was like a dam snapped. She didn’t even know who had made the first move, if either of them had even had the advantage. All that she knew was she had felt the air heat to a boiling point and then Hawke’s mouth was on hers, his hands firm on her waist. Hawke was different from Bull: he was solid, but in a way that suggested command rather than simply mass; his kiss was not only about leading, but about working together; his smell was clean and crisp and masculine without reminding her of a battlefield. After several wonderful, long moments, Teshrael broke the kiss and blinked the confusion from her eyes.

                “I don’t even know your first name,” she muttered, disoriented.

                A deep, gravelly laugh burst from Hawke’s chest and she flushed despite herself. His eyes locked with hers again and not for the first time, Teshrael was blown away by how stunningly handsome he was. “Garrett,” he said quietly and then bent his head to hers again.

                The second kiss was slower, longer. Hawke’s facial hair tickled her cheeks and chin, but Teshrael bit back her laughter to lose herself in the kiss. Slowly, Hawke’s tongue traced the curve of her lower lip and she opened her mouth slightly to grant him entrance. Their tongues met, dancing around one another as they explored and tasted the other. He groaned, the sound muffled by their embrace, and brought a hand up to caress her cheek.

                Teshrael was surprised to notice the hardness pressed to her thigh and she couldn’t help but flush again, suddenly aware of just how strong an effect she was having on the Champion of Kirkwall. Dizzy, she pulled away from the embrace and tried to murmur some excuse, but Hawke just pulled her face back to his and her eyelids fluttered closed.

                Sometime in the midst of their rendezvous, Hawke suggested going somewhere more comfortable and she was leading him back to her room without pause. They fell to her bed together and his hands were under her top in seconds, his calloused fingers teasing the sensitive skin of her stomach. Teshrael sighed against his lips and then whimpered when he pulled back, but her protests quickly ended as he began to shed his armor. She tried to follow suit but one of Hawke’s hands came over hers, pausing her efforts and their eyes met.

                “Please,” he whispered, voice gruff. “Please let me.”

                Teshrael dropped her hand, her eyes raking over Hawke’s chest as he tugged off his chest piece. His body was all hard planes and slopes; silver scars criss-crossed his skin, telling stories of his bravery in battle. She followed the trail of dark curls from his belly button to the waistband of his pants, pulling her lower lip between her teeth in anticipation but Hawke paused his undressing and reached for her. Teshrael gave herself over to his nimble fingers and within moments, she was stripped to her small clothes. As soon as she was exposed, she heard Hawke draw a sharp breath and their eyes met again, a question within his.

                Without saying anything, she reached for him and Hawke melted into her, reclaiming her mouth in a kiss.

                At some point, Hawke lost the remainder of his clothing and so did she. In a rare moment of bravery, Teshrael pushed him back against her pillows and knelt between his thighs, hushing his protests as she hovered above him. It was true, he was not nearly as massive as Iron Bull, but Teshrael was not one to compare: in fact, any thoughts of the Qunari were far from her mind. Teshrael lowered her head and gripped Hawke’s shaft in one hand, then licked slowly from his base to the beginning of the head. Hawke moaned and his hips bucked, spurring her forward. She took him in her mouth and began to bob her head up and down, taking her cues from the different groans of pleasure spilling from his lips. Just as he began to tremble, alerting her to his coming orgasm, Hawke pulled her from him and pushed her back to the bed, prying her legs apart.

                Teshrael cried out as he licked her, squirming beneath his attentions. Hawke had her completely exposed and vulnerable before him and the thought turned her on incredibly. Although he was not a complete stranger, the quiet warrior was still a mystery to her—the not-knowing only served to further excite her. As Hawke feasted on the junction of her thighs, using just the right amount of pressure on the sensitive bundle hidden between her folds, Teshrael fisted a hand in his shaggy hair and brought the other to grip his shoulder. Hawke had incredible shoulders: wide and strong, the shoulders of a man you could respect.

                Before she was fully aware of what was happening, her pleasure reached a crescendo and Teshrael called out his name as she came, her orgasm bathing her in a golden glow. As her shuddering died down, Hawke pulled himself over her and their lips met again. The heady taste of her womanhood on his lips made her dizzy again and she struggled to register as Hawke pressed a knee between her thighs.

                Just as he began to position himself, Hawke paused and pulled back, looking down at her with earnestly. “Just say the word and I’ll stop. We can forget this happened,” he said softly, pain spreading over his features.

                It felt as though her heart was breaking within her chest. It was clear someone had hurt Hawke, badly, and Teshrael suddenly wanted nothing more than to erase that pain—even if it was only for the night. Distantly, she reminded herself that pain was what had brought them together in the first place: her pain over Bull’s dalliance. Teshrael nodded slowly, the corners of her lips lifting. “I want this, Garrett. I want you to make love to me.”

                Relief spread across his features and then his lips covered hers again, his hips pressing forward to find hers. Since she was already so wet from her orgasm, Hawke had no trouble aligning himself with her entrance and pushing forward, pushing into her. They sighed together as their bodies joined and Teshrael rolled her hips forward to meet his, slowly falling into rhythm with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, using the angle to pull Hawke deeper, moaning as he hilted within her and filled every inch of her body. Hawke’s lips were everywhere as he rutted against her: in her hair, over her cheeks and lips, down her neck, across her collarbones. He reached one of his hands forward and their fingers intertwined; Hawke pressed their conjoined hands into the pillow beside her face and the intimacy lit a fire within her.

                Time passed slowly as they joined, soft gasps and groans filling the air of the room. The coupling was not the frantic, powerful affair that it was with Iron Bull: Hawke was a gentle, delicate, thorough lover. Teshrael kissed the scar over his nose several times and he would bury his face in the curve of her neck, whispering her name over and over as if it were his salvation. All too soon, Hawke began to tremble and his thrust quickened, grew frantic. At the last moment, Teshrael felt his doubt and he began to pull back, but she drew him forward and Hawke moaned against her lips as he reached his climax and spilled within her. Teshrael’s walls tightened around him, her second orgasm as much a surprise as the first, and she whispered his name into his ear as they crossed the threshold together.

                Hawke rolled to his side still intertwined with her, half-buried inside her. Their lips found each other again and Hawke sighed, stroking her face. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, pulling her close.

                After some time, they finally separated only to snuggle close again, her head against his chest. As they lay together, Hawke told her stories: about his childhood, about his time in battle, and about the other woman.

                “I wasn’t enough for her,” he confessed, his voice quivering slightly. “Everything was perfect in the beginning, but we fought more and more the longer we stayed together. One day, I came home to find her in bed with another man… and a woman. She told me she didn’t love me anymore, that things had changed, and she packed her bags that night.”

                “I’m so sorry, Hawke,” Teshrael responded, aching for him.

                “It had to be done. Isabela and I… we were fire and ice, constantly at war with one another. I truly wish her nothing but the best.”

                Teshrael nodded slowly: she could understand the sentiment. Now, in the after-glow of sex with Hawke, her anger and pain to Iron Bull was fading. As if he could sense her thoughts were with another man, Hawke shifted slightly: “The Qunari, correct? That’s why you were in the woods?”

                She sighed and shrugged, “Things were not what I thought they were between us.”

                Hawke smiled, pressing a kiss into her hair. “His loss is my gain.”

                Warmth spread throughout the small elf’s body and she snuggled closer to the warrior, feeling safe and secure within the circle of his arms. Come morning, she had no idea if Hawke would stay by her side or if she would drift back to Bull.

                But for tonight, they had one another and that was enough.


	2. Chapter 2

                The sickness washed over her several weeks later, leaving Teshrael ragged and weak for most of the day. She began to skip meals in order to try and stave her nausea, but even if she did not eat, bile would find its way up her throat. Fever raged within her and when the Inquisitor came to inquire about her aptitude for a quest, Raeslinn found her laid up in bed with a deep basin beside her.

                As Raeslinn took a seat on the edge of the bed, her eyebrows came together and she met her companion’s gaze. Teshrael recognized that expression and made no attempt to stop her friend’s query: “Does Iron Bull know?”

                “He’s not the father.”

                Raeslinn betrayed no surprised, but kept her expression even. Her lips pressed together firmly and Teshrael could just see the wheels turning in her head and eventually she sighed. “May I ask who?”

                Teshrael debated with herself for several long moments before she gave a weak nod. “Hawke.”

                This time, surprise filled Raeslinn’s face and her eyebrows shot straight up. “I’m sorry?”

                “We have not slept together since the first night, but he has spent many evenings here with me. I know that he is the Champion and I tried to stop myself, but…” She trailed off as memories of their nights together washed over her: Hawke’s hands cupping her cheeks as he murmured sweet nothings to her; the warmth of his embrace as they lay together and told stories of their respective adventures; the quiet happiness his presence brought as they sat together and studied some tome or epic novel.

                “So things with you and Bull are…?”

                “Bull ended things when he found himself in another woman’s arms. I’m not proud that I turned to flesh comforts to ease the pain, but I’m not ashamed of Hawke.”

                Raeslinn sighed and nodded slowly, her expression difficult to gauge. “Does he know you’re with child?”

                Teshrael’s tough exterior faltered and she drew in a shaky breath. Slowly, she placed a hand over her still-flat stomach. Of course she had known: most women knew, but her magic had confirmed it. Even now, she could feel the little spark of life beneath her fingertips, reacting to the hum of the energy that flowed within her. Teshrael felt a surge of protectiveness over that precious life. “He does not. I am not sure how or when to tell him.”

                The two women sat in silence, each lost in thought. It was the Inquisitor who broke it: “Tomorrow we leave to meet Hawke’s contact with the Grey Wardens. I… I can’t promise we will not find ourselves in trouble. I will do what I can to ensure he returns, but I can make no promises.”

                Fearful tears stung Teshrael’s eyes and she bit her lip, nodding. “Of course, Inquisitior. Thank you for the warning.”

                Raeslinn accepted the thanks and leaned forward, pressing a motherly kiss to her friend’s forehead. “ _Please_ watch over yourself. Let someone know so that they can help you.”

                Teshrael nodded and the two women said their goodbyes, Teshrael worrying the inside of her lip as she debated how to let the beautiful, wonderful Champion know that he was going to be a father.

~~~

                That night when he came to her, he did not hesitate to tell her he would be leaving to meet his contact. Teshrael could not bring herself to confess her secret and instead lost herself in Hawke’s embrace, the heat from the first night slowly building. This time when they joined, Hawke seemed much more frantic—it was as though he was a dying man trying to say his last goodbyes, his hands wandering over every inch of his skin and his cock filling her. He came inside her again without bothering to pull out, but as soon as they rolled to face each other, a strange expression crossed Hawke’s face.

                “You know, Isabela was so careful about where I released,” he said idly, as though his thoughts were elsewhere. “Even though she took herbs, she would not let me finish within her—she was terrified of being tied down to a child.”

                Guilt filled Teshrael and she knew that she should speak up, but she could not find the words. “I don’t share those concerns,” she whispered and Hawke nuzzled against her neck, drawing her into his warm embrace.

                He woke her the next morning as he left bed, preparing himself for his journey. Fear seized her heart and Teshrael clung to Hawke, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes. Hawke kissed the droplets away, murmuring promises to return to her—assuring her that she would not miss him terribly and that he would think of her every night they were apart. Teshrael finally allowed him to pry himself away and she turned from him, dressing herself so that she might accompany him to the gates. They left her room together, unafraid to be caught but all in naught as they did not encounter another soul until they stepped foot in the courtyard.

                The Inquisitor was already there, her head bent close to Cullen’s as they spoke in hushed tones. Although the information was not public yet, Teshrael knew that the two had been lovers for some time now; she also knew they loved one another deeply and only had eyes for the other. Teshrael cast a quick glance at Hawke, wondering if they could one day have the same. Even as she pondered, the rest of the Inquisitor’s party emerged from their respective hiding places: Dorian, Sera, and finally Iron Bull.

                At the sight of the Qunari, Teshrael tensed and averted her gaze. After her night with Hawke, she had gone to him and officially ended things, but he had all but blown her off. _It was only a bit of fun,_ he had said. His words had stung but had also been a relief; that night, in Hawke’s arms, the small weight she felt upon her shoulders had been lifted.

                She and Cullen said their goodbyes to the party and watched their departure before Teshrael had to hurry away, another wave of sickness overcoming her. As she steadied herself against a wall, stepping away from the pile of vomit, Teshrael sighed and resolved to find Varric. The dwarf had been unhappy to have been left behind—especially since it meant giving up the chance to fight alongside Hawke again—but she was suddenly grateful he was still here.

                Hopefully, he could give her some answers about her current predicament.

 

                It felt like an eternity had passed when Teshrael received word the Inquisitor and her party had returned. She rushed to the war room but found the doors latched and worried outside, pacing back and forth. Finally, the door swung open and she burst inside, frantically searching for a familiar head of dark hair.

                Hawke was bloodied and bruised but when her eyes fell on him, _alive_ , her knees went out. Cassandra caught her just before she hit the floor and everyone stepped forward to offer a hand but she waved them away, slightly embarrassed. Through the crowd, Teshrael caught Hawke’s eyes and mouthed _we need to talk_. The warrior paled slightly and shook his head, then looked to the Inquisitor and mentioned a man named Stroud. A few moments later, Teshrael learned that Stroud had been his contact and he had perished inside of the Fade. Her heart ached for Hawke, but she vowed to give him the space that he needed.

                Later, she found herself back with Varric, worrying over Hawke’s disappearance following the meeting. The day she had confessed to the dwarf that she was carrying his friend’s child, Varric had become incredibly attentive to her. In fact, he had taken to escorting her back to her room at night and dozing off in the plush chair by her bookcase; he was always gone when she awoke, but knowing he watched over her at night helped her greatly. Varric had also found a supply of dried leaves that, when chewed, alleviated her nausea. Teshrael had regained a bit of her weight back and her belly was beginning to swell, a small half-sphere already forming. By her calculations, she was a bit over three months along. The tight muscles of her stomach had softened and begun to swell; at night, Teshrael would cup her growing belly as if to cradle the precious being within.

                “What if he wants to end things?” She asked Varric, pacing before him. “What if he is leaving?”

                “Even if he ends things, Hawke is a good man,” Varric soothed. “He will take care of you and his child.”

                “I can’t do this without him, Varric, I just—I want him to stay, I want to be with him. I…” Teshrael broke off suddenly, afraid of what she had been about to confess.

                Varric groaned and rolled his eyes, then chuckled softly. “You don’t have to tell me anything, kindling. I knew you loved Hawke when you told me about the little one.”

                Teshrael opened her mouth to respond when a familiar figure suddenly stepped through the front doors. Hawke paused to scan the room and when his eyes fell on her and Varric, he made a beeline for the two of them. Her heart skipped several beats as Hawke approached and she steadied herself, fighting down the giddiness.

                When Hawke reached them, he didn’t pause before taking her into his arms and seeking her lips with his. Teshrael kissed him back, a bit shocked, and only pulled away when Varric let out a long, low whistle. As they drew away, Hawke pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, pausing. “I’ve missed you,” he said softly, then pulled back and chastised Varric. The dwarf chuckled and shook his head, grinning.

                “I think you two deserve some time alone. I hear you have a lot to talk about,” he said and winked at Teshrael, who scowled.

                Hawke looked back and forth between the two, confusion evident in his face before nodding. “Of course,” he replied and then offered his elbow to Teshrael. She strung his arm through his and drew close to Hawke’s side, shivering as he began to lead her towards her quarters.

                Tonight, it was time she had a serious talk with her Champion.


	3. Chapter 3

                As it turned out, Hawke had little intention of speaking.

                Instead, as soon as they were confined in the walls of her bedroom and Teshrael had turned to face him, his mouth covered hers and his hands played with the hem of her shirt. Teshrael gasped and tried to pull away but his hand came up and knotted in her hair, forced her still. Hawke pushed her against the wall and forced a knee between her thighs, his kisses desperate and harsh compared to his earlier, kinder affections. Several times she tried to pull back and pause the moment, but each time Hawke would crush his lips against hers and grind against her. Eventually, one of his hands worked its way between her thighs and she gasped as he stroked her through her shorts, then began tugging off her bottoms.

                In a flash, Hawke had broken the kiss and flipped her, so that her chest was pressed to the stone. Behind her, he fumbled and suddenly her shorts were yanked down and he was forcing her to step from the fabric. The clang of metal indicated he had shed his belt and then Teshrael felt him, hard and hot, pressed against the cleft of her ass.

                “Hawke—“ She began, desperate to speak with him before anything should happen, but a hand snaked around her chest and his fingers were at her throat, squeezing slightly.

                Hawke leaned against her and his lips found her ear. “Please,” he whispered, “I need you.”

                There was so much pain in his voice that Teshrael felt her resolve shatter. Before she could accept or deny him, Hawke had grabbed her hips and pulled her against him. With a grunt, he thrust himself inside her and Teshrael gasped, her head spinning, as he began to rut wildly. His strokes were hard and deep, his hips smacking against the curve of her ass. Hawke trailed rough kisses along the line of her shoulder, biting down whenever she would cry out. Stars swam before her eyes as he continued his efforts and just as she was certain her knees were ready to give out, Hawke cried out her name and exploded inside her.

                Moments later, Hawke pulled her from the wall and took her in his arms, kissing her as sweetly as she had remembered. Teshrael melted against him and wrapped her arms around his neck, dizzy from his smell. They remained locked together for some time until her stomach suddenly turned and Teshrael pulled away, desperate, just making it to the basin beside her bed before her stomach shifted and she retched loudly.

                While she knelt, emptying her stomach, Teshrael heard Hawke behind her. She meant to tell him to stand back, but he knelt behind her and gathered her hair in his palm, pulling it back from her face. The gesture was so tender that tears welled in the corners of her eyes and when she was done, Teshrael relaxed and sat back against him.

                Hawke pressed a warm kiss to her temple, pushing a strand of sweaty hair from her forehead. “I’d heard you’d fallen ill recently, but I had hoped you had overcome your affliction. Do I need to send for a healer, sweetness?”

                Teshrael barked out a short laugh, admiring his naivety. “I’m not ill, Hawke… At least, not per say.”

                His brows knitted together and his head tilted to the side, reminiscent of the Mabari when they were confused by their master’s commands. “What do you mean?”

                Teshrael sighed and moved so that they were facing, then reached for his hand. Hawke threaded his fingers with hers and she smiled softly, then pressed his palm against the slight swell of her stomach. Hawke’s eyes flickered but he said nothing, his mouth setting in a hard line. “Hawke, I’m pregnant.”

                The silence between them stretched and grew heavy as they sat together, his hand pressed to her stomach. Slowly, Hawke withdrew his touch and sat back, shaking his head slightly. “That’s not possible,” he responded quietly, refusing to meet her gaze. “I thought you took herbs, you—you told me not to worry.”

                “I already knew at that point,” Teshrael confessed, her shame coloring her cheeks. “And you’re right, I did have herbs but… It was a mistake, Hawke. I had not taken them in some time when we coupled and it didn’t cross my mind until it was already too late.”  
                “Well, I’m glad to know it was something so simple as a fuckery of judgement!” Hawke laughed but the sound was cruel and cold. Teshrael tried to reach for him but he flinched as though burned, moving away from her and standing. Hawke turned his back on her, his shoulders slumping. “Please, don’t. I can’t—“

                “Hawke, please,” she whispered, scrambling to her feet. The sudden movement made her head spin and her stomach threatened to turn again, but she steadied herself with a hand on the edge of her bed and closed her eyes. “I need you.”

                “I have to go.” He was at the door in a flash, his hand already prying it open. Teshrael took a step towards him but Hawke whirled to face her, raising a hand to stop her. “Please. I need… I need some time.”

                Moisture stung Teshrael’s eyes and she swallowed her pain, then nodded curtly. _Damn you Varric,_ she thought to herself. The dwarf had been so certain… He had promised her that Hawke would stay, that he would be the kind of man she deserved. “When will you be back?”

                “I can’t answer that now.” Hawke dropped his gaze and they stood there awkwardly, still for several long moments more. Finally, though, he turned and fled the room, closing the door quietly behind himself.

                Teshrael didn’t register sliding to the ground, but the next thing she knee, her knees were pressed to the floorboards and great, wracking sobs were shaking her body. She cried for what felt like a lifetime, wrapping her arms around herself and rocking back and forth in efforts to comfort herself. She wanted nothing more than to run from the room and chase after Hawke, but she recognized that she could not force him to stay even if she wanted. And even if he would stay, he would resent her and their child for forcing him into a life of slavery.

 

                Just outside of the room, Hawke pressed his forehead to the cold stone of the wall. He knew that he should reach for the handle, that he should re-enter and hold her. He could hear her sobs and they broke his heart, but Hawke could not force himself into action. Instead, he stood frozen against the wall until her cries died down and then he peeled himself away and made his way down the stairs.

                His feet carried him to The Herald’s Rest and Hawke found himself in a chair back in a dark corner, nursing his sixth or seventh mug of ale before he was really aware of what he was doing. An outburst of laughter drew his attention and Hawke’s head snapped up, his eyes finding the source. _The Qunari._ Iron Bull was laughing at something of his Chargers had said and in that moment, Hawke’s reserve snapped and he was suddenly on his feet and fast approaching them.

                Iron Bull barely had time to glance up when suddenly Hawke was upon him, his fist connecting with Iron Bull’s jaw. Although the Champion of Kirkwall did not have Bull’s sheer size, he was no lightweight: the punch sent Bull reeling and he fell from the chair, toppling it over in the process. From the floor, Bull’s gaze locked with Hawke’s and he growled, nursing the sore spot on his cheek. “And to what do I owe the pleasure, Champion?”

                “You’re a rotten bastard, Qunari,” Hawke spat.

                Iron Bull snarled and lunged forward, tackling Hawke. The two grappled on the floor until Iron Bull won the upper hand, pinning the other man with a knee on his chest and connecting a fist with the fleshy part of his face. Hawke spat blood and managed to free himself, swinging at Bull and snarling curses. There were shouts around them from the Chargers and the other patrons, egging on the battle until a single, clear voice drowned them out:

                “Stop right there!”  
                Iron Bull froze and Hawke used the opportunity to get in the last hit when a blast of heat hit him. He cried out and jerked away from the Qunari, bringing his arm against his chest and nursing the slight burn on his exposed forearm. Hawke lifted his head to behold the Inquisitor, standing before him in all of her glory and rage. Her amethyst eyes were flaring and magic hissed in the air surrounding her, reminding Hawke that he had just attacked one of her beloved companions. Suddenly, the tumble with the Qunari did not seem quite so satisfying.

                “Just what in the _hell_ do you think you’re doing, Hawke? I thought you were a better man than this,” Raeslinn hissed, stepping towards him. Before Hawke could respond, she continued her rant: “I know you’re going through a tough time right now, but we _all_ have our problems. You should be with Teshrael, helping her through this, not getting into a bar fight with her ex!”

                From his position still on the floor, Iron Bull made a choking noise. “You’re fucking the elf?”

                Hawke shot daggers at him, “Don’t talk about her that way!”

                Bull raised his hands in a peace-keeping motion, shaking his head but did not apologize. Before Hawke could move for him again, Raeslinn was yanking him up by his collar and he shriveled before her. Despite the fact he probably had a foot on her in height and many pounds on her, he couldn’t help but feel small under the Inquisitor’s withering gaze.

                “I assume she’s told you, then?” Raeslinn asked quietly so that only he could make out her words. Hawke nodded slowly and she sighed, rubbing her temples. “And you thought the best plan of action was to get roaring drunk and swing at the Bull?”

                Hawke felt defenseless, naked in the face of the truth. He flushed as he came to realize what a fool he had been, but he had no defense for himself. “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed and the words ripped a sob from him. Before he could realize it, tears were falling freely and the small crowd that still remained around them dispersed, uncomfortable with the display of weakness from their beloved Champion.

                Raeslinn sighed and wrapped her arms around him, humming softly. “There, there,” she purred, patting his shoulder, “There’s no need for tears here, Hawke. We’ve all made mistakes.”

                “I just…” He struggled to find the right words, to explain why he had abandoned her friend in such a pivotal time. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do now.”

                “You’re supposed to go to her and apologize,” Raeslinn responded, wisdom beyond her years evident in her tone. “You need to be there for one another.”

                Hawke nodded slowly, taking in her words. Although he saw the sense within them, there was still uncertainty in his heart. “I need some time.”

                Raeslinn sighed, clicking her tongue. “I may be understanding, but not that understanding. Teshrael deserves more than this.”

                “I know, but for now… I need to think.”

                The Inquisitor released him slowly and stood, straightening her top. “For her sake, I hope that time is brief. I’m not one to make threats, Champion, but I _will_ have your hide should you decide fatherhood inconvenient for yourself.”

                Hawke knew she would make good on the threat and stood himself, nodding to her. “Whatever happens, I won’t let her shoulder this on her own, but I can make no promises.” With that, he left the tavern, heading for the stables.

                There was someone he desperately needed to speak with.

~~~

                She opened the door on the first knock and took one look at him before inviting him inside. As Hawke entered her bedroom and took a seat, she offered him a cup of tea and he accepted graciously. When she returned with the beverage, she sat upon the edge of the bed and raised an eyebrow. “You look like death. What’s on your mind?”

                Hawke took a sip of his tea and sighed, then shook his head. “I’m going to be a father.”

                Across from him, Ashari Hawke broke out into a wide grin and reached forward to slap her brother on the shoulder. “Well shit, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into now?”


	4. Chapter 4

                Ash was every bit as deadly and dangerous as Garrett, though much slighter in build. Nevertheless, she had stood beside her brother in battle and led the mages to defeat the Templars. When Garrett had been deemed the Champion of Kirkwall, Ash stood beside him and received an identical title. The twins had been an inseparable force, bringing about peace once more.

                Now, however, Garrett felt he hardly knew his sister.

                In the months they had spent apart, Ash had developed a softness about her. When he stepped close to her, he could still feel the familiar pull of her magic but it seemed… muted somehow. There was a spark in her stormy grey eyes that had once been lost, a bounce in her step. Without asking, Garrett knew that Fenris was due his glory: ever since their reunion, the two had become inseparable and very much in love.

                The only real damper on their relationship had been Ash’s inability to conceive—a fact she was keeping secret from Fenris, who was not sure where he stood on children. Of course, Ash had confessed her worries to Garret. How cruel it seemed that he would be the first to begin his brood and with a virtual stranger, no less.

                Still… Ash did not seem vindictive. She brought her brother to the dining room of their once-shared mansion and sat him down to weave his tale. As Garrett talked, she listened intently, her grey gaze trained on his face. In the flicker of candlelight, Garrett realized she had changed in another way: she seemed older now, more wise.

                Their quest had taken its toll on her.

                As Garrett recounted how he had stormed from Teshrael’s room and challenged Iron Bull, his twin’s eyes flashed. “You great lummox, you did _what?!_ You seriously just ran off and left her?”

                Garrett held his hands up to defend himself, his forehead creasing. “It’s not like that, I just needed—“

                “And she just needs you, I’d imagine.” Ash sighed and shook her head, then a stony expression came over her face. She regarded him coldly, then cleared her throat and dropped her eyes. “Is she… is she keeping it?”

                The question floored him and it felt like the air had been dragged from his lungs. He had not considered Teshrael doing anything but having the child, but… He knew that elves were crafty and that there were potions that could terminate a pregnancy. The thought drew shivers to his spine and Garrett shook his head adamantly. “She wouldn’t.”  
                “How do you know?”

                It had been a long time since the Champion had felt fear, but he was now very much afraid. This… _His_ child’s welfare was being called into question. Sure, he was uncertain what he was going to do, but he couldn’t imagine losing that spark—his child, his heir.

                _Their child,_ he reminded himself, frowning. _This is Teshrael’s child as well._

Ash regarded him with a steely expression and then leapt to her feet, heading for the doorway. Garrett scrambled to follow her, surprised that he found himself panting a bit to keep up with his significantly shorter sister’s impossibly long stride. “Where are we going?” He asked, coming to her side.

                “The stables, of course. You’ll need a fresh mount.”

                Garrett stumbled but managed to catch himself. “Have you not heard a word I said? I’ve told you I don’t know what I’m doing.”

                Ash whirled on him, jabbing a finger to his chest. Even through his armor, he felt a prickle of ice and shivered. Eye flashing, Ash hissed: “You may not know what you’re doing, but I’ll have no niece or nephew of mine in any danger. If you have to, tie the addled woman up and bring her here to talk some sense into her.”

                “I don’t even know that she’d want to end the pregnancy.”

                “You don’t know that she’d want to continue it either, especially after your fool reaction!”  
                Garrett wanted to protest, to come to Teshrael’s aid, but she was entirely correct. He had no idea what her plans for their child were and even if he was more terrified than he had ever been, he felt that he could not handle it should she decide to terminate. Without another word, he followed Ash to the stables and was on his way back to Skyhold before the morning.

~~~

                When Teshrael had awoken, she had known that something was wrong. In a panic, her hand had flown to her stomach and felt a strange wetness there. When she had pulled her palm away, she had been dizzy to find it red and slick with blood; throwing off her sheets, she was stunned to find even more blood soaking her sheets and thighs. Teshrael had stumbled from bed desperately, paying no mind to the fact she was in her nightclothes, and made a mad dash for the one she felt could best help her.

                Solas spotted her the moment she burst through the door and was instantly at her side, ushering her to a chair. “Ma vhenan,” he murmured and the words prickled her skin. Teshrael was suddenly second-guessing her decision, but Solas gave no pause as he came to kneel before her. Carefully, he laid his hands upon her stomach and they locked eyes: Teshrael saw the recognition there and wanted to scream when she realized he already knew.

                But of course he did. The same magic that had let her know must have alerted Solas, just as it had Raeslinn. If she had to bet, Dorian and Vivienne were already aware as well.

                “When did the bleeding start?” Solas asked calmly, a glow beginning to emanate from his hands.

                Teshrael felt a warmth wash over her and sighed, relaxing slightly. “I don’t know,” she confessed softly and a tear snaked its way down her cheek. “I was already bleeding when I awoke.”

                Solas nodded as though he had anticipated her answer and silence fell over them. Without asking, Teshrael knew that something had gone wrong and that Solas was fighting to save her child. Although she was afraid and uncomfortable, she gave herself over to him fully and squeezed her eyes shut, sending prayers to Mythal for protection.

                After an eternity passed, Teshrael felt Solas withdraw his hands and she opened her eyes. His expression was guarded, but she could read the sorrow in his eyes. Before she could register what was happening, she had sank to the floor before him and was sobbing. The elven mage awkwardly put his arms around her, smoothing a hand over her hair.

                “Ir abelas, ma vhenan. I could not save them both.”

                At his words, Teshrael pulled away and looked at him through tear-clouded eyes. “Both?”

                Solas raised a brow, frowning. “Surely you had realized you carried twins?”

                She had not.

                For a fleeting moment, the news excited her and then her happiness was dashed. One of the babies, so precious and small, had perished. Although she had been terrified to learn she was with child, the loss filled her with sorrow and she leaned back against Solas, resuming her crying. Secretly, she was relieved that one child still lived, but this thought filled her with guilt.

                Who was she to celebrate when another had lost their life?

                As the two elves sat on the floor—one in tears, the other comforting—a rider approached the gates. The guards, recognizing the Champion, allowed him entrance.

                Hawke dismounted just inside the entrance and rushed for the keep. Before he could make it, though, a small hand snaked from the shadows of the stairs and Hawke jolted as he came face to face with the Inquisitor, her moonlight hair streaming wildly behind her.

                “Well well,” she hissed, eyes narrowing. “If the dog hasn’t slunk home with his tail between his legs.”


End file.
